Don't explode yet
Let yourself bleed
Don't close your door yet
The pain can cure anyhow
The cure to your wound
Is the thing that broke you
Close your door only to her.
I wish these walls would talk
Of your slavery in the dark
They would tell your throat’s pain
The countless times you remain
Talking throughout the night
Entertainer of the prized fight
Your buttons they push and poke
You overworked entertaining bloke
You are expected to carry the news
Tell the stories of the famed and abuse
If the walls that house your tired brain
Could talk how tired you are and lame
Then maybe someone would show pity
Allow you to rest so you could feel pretty
I bleed white
I am feared
hating each sight
skeptical to everything
reluctant to each
like a lone king
who to everyone beseech
and numb fingers
sweating forhead sips,
mind's sap and lingers.
often swooning around
and hiding behind
can be seen dead on ground
I am success hard to find.
Uneasiness or pain, due to loss best describes my existence,
My name is Sorrow and though many try to avoid me,
No one can keep their distance.
I live strongly in the families of Malcolm X, Dr. King and JFK,
Some use me as an inevitable excuse to escape the every day.
I will never die, though people kill themselves for me to continue my mission,
Whether you be rich, happy, beautiful
I strike you in any condition.
Like a common cold, I don’t disappear, Im just dormant
But happiness is a medicine, not a cure
To strike you, I need no consent
WE USED TO BE SO CLOSE INSEPARABLE TIGHTER THAN ANY PAIR OF BLUE JEANS.
NOW WE ARE GOING DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS IT ONLY SEEMS AS IF WE WERE NEVER CLOSE.
IT SADDENS MY HEART TO US THIS WAY THERE IS NOTHING I WISH FOR THAN FOR THINGS TO BE THE WAY THEY USED TO BE.
I TRY TO GO ON BUT IT DOESN'T FEEL THE SAME IT SEEMS AS IF WE ARE NOT IN CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER.
YOU BECAME A MOTHER AND I MOVED AWAY BUT I KNOW DEEP IN MY HEART.
WE DRIFTED APART AND BECAME DIVIDED INTO OUR OWN WORLD.
There is something
Sad about ghost
Who have not yet
Found their way
Tomorrow is our future
Just another day
They bring that prospect
Closely to mind
I pity the ghost
A projection from life
That live's threw time
I pity the ghost
For the role they played
And yet and still
I am not afraid
I pity the ghost
Who have no space
For the tragedy that
They've had to face
They should be revered
And not to be the subjected
To some kind of ghost chase
Fore they were once people
Who have lost their place
They are the true figment
Of the people who have died
And for whom so many have cried
Most of them were subjects
Their salvation denied
Fore some-how they
Were left so un-alive
Left to survive in spirit only
Maybe that is why
Some of them seem so lonely
There is a reason why
They shouldn't be treated that way
Fore what they need
Is for some-one just to pray
They have so many questions'
And emotions that which they
So prominently display
Only if they could some-how
Reconcile their spirit's that way
Then may-be somehow maybe
They will just go away
To say the least
They will be not reason
For them to go astray
The forest might not be mine,
But in my dreams i still cross that line.
my memories cant be forgotten
as i picture animals getting rotten.
I still want to hunt with pain,
but not to dream with any blood stain.
No to hunting,taking all animals as a pet
I hold them with care without a bullet,
though I have a meal without flesh
is like drinking water which is not fresh.
my career is no longer to kill,
But to watch the forest from a hill
My last words as I hunt no more
As I enjoy nature by the shore.
is it a waking dream?
is it a waking nightmare?
it be the thoughts of the deserted,
those who have nothing left to lose,
the ones who can go mute without a second thought,
the ones whose dreams overflow with the blood of others,
for they are the ones who see the sinister truth,
the end isn't near its always been there,
for you see the end is not when the world ends,
it is the last day you feel complete,
it is the day you feel worthless,
the day you see only the dark side of things,
the moment you imagine slaying the beast of which caused your pain,
for that is the day the innocence known as your "inner child" is finally slaughtered,
and when your become...,
UNSPOKKEN WORDS ARE MEMORIES LOST,
...COUNTLESS TIMES THE UNSPOKEN WORDS,
THAT HAVE CLOUDED MY HEART.
SCREAM OR SHOUT ANYTHING BUT SILENCE!
CALL OUT MY NAME AS I CALL OUT FOR YOURS,
MY SOUL LONGING FOR YOUR ACCEOTANCE AND LOVE.
LOOK INTO MY EYES AND YOU WILL FIND MY SOUL.
TOMORROW WILL COME AND MANY DAYS AFTER,
YET TODAY WE SHALL NEVER SEE AGAIN.
SHALL WE LOSE TODAY AS WE DID BEFORE?
IS TODAY THE DAY WE BEGIN TI HEAL?
UNSPOKEN WORDS HOLD DARKNESS TO THEM,
THEY THRIVE ON SHADOWS,
THAT WE HOLD WITHIN,
HIDING FROM OUR CONSCIOUSNESS.
HOLD CLOSE TO YOU THE PRAYERS,
I'VE PRAYED FOR YOU,
I LONG TO HOLD YOU CLOSE
TO MY HEART IN A CHILDS WAY.
The fallen leaves looking at the heavenly sky
and at my own doorstep they, in silence, sigh;
they often criticize my feet as I pass them by.
Day and night, they hang around, relentlessly
and never know that they, actually, bother me
from entering and leaving my place. My kitty
cat does not like them too, ‘cos they do crackle
as she tiptoes out, eagerly, to touch the sparkle
of the afternoon sun. Ah, today I have to tackle
the task of teaching them and myself. Luckily,
these delicate hands of yesterday are totally free
from the arid office, serving my boss with a tea
that I gathered them and place them in a shelter
of green, letting their last smile not just to loiter,
but for them to use it, for Earth to have a better
feel. Now, I see them not, yet they promised me
that they’ll be back once they’ve seen the beauty,
curved from their skin, of a blossoming cherry tree.